


Attention

by Mad_Mage



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Growling Lannisters, Irritated big cats, Jealousy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:22:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mage/pseuds/Mad_Mage
Summary: Was this her way of reminding him what he had lost? Was she mocking him? Punishing him for breaking it off with her? In another world… No, he wouldn’t go there... Not now and not ever. Tywin was too old to act like a fool.





	Attention

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine, I’m just a poor mad mage.  
Inspired by Charlie Puth’s Attention. Go listen to it while reading this, would be more fun that way.

His patience with idiots was running especially low this night. Empty conversations with insipid brownnosers were sapping his energy levels quicker than he thought possible and Tywin had been forced to retreat and regroup, so to speak. He was first to admit that he was angry and it could prove to be fatal for those around him.

Why he was so irritated? Well, he had caught a glimpse of _her_ earlier in the evening. It had happened too many times in the course of the last month for her presence to be a coincidence. Just that one second when his eyes had seen the flash of red had been enough to make his blood boil and the rage had been simmering in him ever since. He had considered leaving but… No. Tywin Lannister wasn’t one to turn tail and run, even if he had been forced to find refuge at the bar.

His set jaw, narrowed eyes, and stiff posture were thankfully keeping people from approaching him. Everything about him let them know about his current mood. Even the bartender gave him a wide berth, appearing now and then to check if Tywin wanted to refresh his drink.

_She_ had been running around, throwing all that dirt on his name, for far too long. He glowered at his glass of scotch. Sansa Stark knew very well what would happen if someone was foolish enough to wake a lion. Poking a sleeping beast was never a good idea but she had insisted on stepping on his paws and then spitting at him after all the consideration he had shown her. He should have known from the start what kind of woman Ms. Stark was.

Even if he hardly cared about that sort of thing, it couldn’t very well escape his attention. When a woman of Sansa’s beauty and standing – the tabloids simply loved her – let out unflattering comments about a former lover, it was bound to stir the gossip mill. Seeing that _he_ had been the man discreetly warming her bed not so long ago… The cleverer of scandalmongers were already whispering _Lannister_ under their breaths.

What she had been thinking? Stupid girl. Had she no decency? For people like him – like them – discretion was fundamental. Stupid, immature girl, going around every pretty party in King’s Landing – or at least every event he would consider attending. He was starting to be afraid to show his face at the opera or theatre performances, skipping most of the fundraisers in fear of running into her. When had the lion become the prey?

Of course, he had to be present at one of those eventually even if he didn’t want to. What was her game? Ruining _his_ reputation when she had no consideration for her own? She was playing right into their hands. It was only a matter of time when everyone would connect the dots and then the public would enjoy destroying them. He could just hear the horrible nicknames already; The Old Lion and The She-wolf. How lovely.

Tywin had had enough.

If she had wanted his attention, she had gotten it. Sansa certainly knew that if she annoyed him enough, he would be the first one to break the silence, most likely than not to roar at her for her stupidity.

He breathed deeply through his nose, finished his drink and stood up. The main hall was buzzing with conversations but the upper levels of the building were empty and blissfully quiet. He navigated the sea of people with practiced ease as he made his way to the stairs and then gracefully ascended, catching more than one eye in the process.

Upstairs, the level of noise lessened considerably. It was also darker and slightly cooler up there and Tywin welcomed it, some of his irritation dissipating. Finding a good vantage point, he leaned over the banister and searched the crowd below.

It took only a minute to find her, the only splash of color in a hopeless sea of grey. Sansa’s hair was always making sure that she was not to be ignored or overlooked in any setting.

Tywin allowed himself a moment to observe her. She was a sight for sore eyes, a vision of beauty, attracting attention from all sides. How effortlessly she managed to turn every head in her direction. Oh, and that short black dress of hers, that surely was karma. Was this her way of reminding him what he had lost? Was she mocking him? Punishing him for breaking it off with her?

Just looking at her had Tywin thinking about the time Sansa had been his. In another world, they would leave soon – not together, of course. She would be the first one to go and Tywin would follow shortly after. They would meet at his apartment, or maybe hers. It hardly mattered. That stupid dress would be ripped to shreds, just a few strips of black fabric at the floor. Or maybe he would carefully peel it off her body. There wouldn’t be any need to rush things…

Oh, gods, why was he having these kinds of thoughts only seconds after seeing her from a distance? What was she doing to him? He wasn’t a boy anymore to be distracted so easily.

He fished out his phone and dialed her number, his gaze never leaving her.

Sansa excused herself from the current pack of idiots surrounding her to answer it. Her _date_ – his lips curled in distaste – tried to trail after her but she shook her head, laughingly saying something to the whelp. Tywin traced her movements with narrowed eyes. He didn’t miss the flicker of hesitation on her face when she saw who was calling. She stared at her phone for a few seconds before she picked up the call.

“Hello, Tywin.” Her voice sounded calm but there was visible tension in her shoulders, in the manner she held herself.

“Sansa.” Even from the distance, he saw her shiver, shift her weight and glance around. Tywin smiled slightly, gratified that his voice still had such an effect on her. She had always shivered when he had been whispering in her ear. Sansa had been so responsive to him, for so long. If only… No, he wouldn’t go there – not now and not ever. Tywin was too old to act like a fool. They had been bed companions and that was it, he should remember that.

Sparing a single glance at the boy who had been pawning Sansa only moments ago, he asked amusedly, “Am I calling at a bad time?“

The boy was pretty enough, Tywin supposed; curly hair, blank expression, rather short, though. Was he a Tyrell? He was probably simpleminded as most of pretty things like him were.

“I saw you here not so long ago, Tywin. You know where I am and that it’s not the best time to call. What do you want?”

“I see you are not in the mood for pleasantries, then. How long did you think I would allow it, hmm?”

“Allow what?” She was frowning, he could tell.

“Oh, come on, darling Sansa. You wanted my attention and now you have it.”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you are trying to imply.” Exasperation, good. Now they were at least on the same page.

“No? Randomly appearing at events you know I have to attend, parading that boy around, those dresses of yours… I guess even your perfume would smell like regret if I were to lean close to you. You look like you are trying to provoke me, to make sure I’m not getting over you, but you know what, Sansa? You’re not coming home with me tonight.”

It had been fun before he had realized how utterly stupid he had been. Sansa so obviously wanted only his attention, not his old foolish heart. He was furious with himself for _still_ being emotionally invested.

“What?” Sansa flushed, quite prettily, and looked around once more as if afraid that someone could hear their conversation. “Have you been drinking, Ty?”

“Am I wrong? Hasn’t it crossed your mind? Don’t you want to?”

Sansa’s breath hitched, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of red. She had thought about it, alright. Tywin watched her took a long breath, heard it over the phone. Then she took another and her spine straightened before she said hauntingly, “Maybe you just hate the thought of me with someone new.”

“Oh, that’s a masterful performance, darling, but it ends now. If I ever see you and your boy again at one of the events I am attending, I’ll have you escorted out. Do you understand?”

“I’m not stalking you, you paranoiac!”

“Do you or do you not understand, Sansa?”

Sansa threw up one of her hands and made an irritated sound. With closed eyes and heaving chest, she fought for composure. There was so much passion hidden behind the mask of the Ice Queen of Winterfell, as she had been dubbed by some. Tywin wondered if the boy was capable of producing even this much emotion in her. He doubted it.

“Tywin,” she whispered then, voice soft a perfectly controlled. “Listen, please.”

He closed his own eyes. Those words were eerily familiar. _Listen, please. Don’t do this to us_. He remembered. He had ignored them then but couldn’t find the will to ignore them now.

“Yes?”

“You know how my father hates social events, right? He would rather have his teeth pulled than attend something like this. He works from Winterfell most of the time and rarely comes to King’s Landing if he absolutely doesn’t have to.”

“If he prefers the solitude of the North, it’s hardly my business.”

“My brother comes in his stead whenever he has to but Robb has been in an accident. He’s just started to hobble around using crutches, Ty. I suppose one of us Starks is as good as the next. My cousin and I, we cover for Robb and his wife.”

Oh. Had she said _cousin?_

“It would cause quite a stir if you’ll have us escorted out,” Sansa continued and Tywin forced himself to open his eyes and look at her. Sansa’s head was bowed, partly turned to the side so he could not see her expression. Her voice, however, was still soft. “I thought that’s the last thing you wanted, Tywin – the media noticing us.”

It wasn’t in his nature to apologize for being a fool and making assumptions. Tywin’s default reaction when backed into a corner was aggression.

“So glad we cleared that up and I won’t need a restraining order, Sansa.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she huffed, annoyed, and Tywin watched her as she started to move through the crowd, away from his sight. She didn’t disappear fast enough, though – he still noticed how she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand.

Something inside of him clenched. His reaction to being hurt was to lash out. He gripped the banister with his free hand.

“Let’s talk instead about the slander chargers, then.”

“Slander chargers! What is wrong with you tonight?!”

“With me? Me?” Tywin roared into the phone. “What do you expect me to do? Let you run your mouth about your unsatisfying lover? One more insinuation like that and I’ll destroy you.”

“Look, whatever you heard about Joffrey is blown out of proportions and out of context…”

“Joffrey?” Tywin interrupted her, a cold sense of dread settling in his stomach. All his fury left as suddenly as it came. Why would she bring his idiotic grandson into this? Unless Sansa’s unflattering comments had been about that stupid boy. The boy who had started using the Lannister name after Cersei and Robert Baratheon had split.

“You slept with my grandson?” he asked, deadly still. His grip on the phone became so tight that he could swear that he heard a slight cracking noise. Knuckles of his other hand on the banister were white. He couldn’t breathe.

“Of course not! I met him one evening by chance and his manners left a lot to be desired… and then Margaery let it slip into the tabloids what a sorry excuse for a man that boy was… and here we are, having a ridiculous conversation about me slandering your precious Lannister name. You know what, Tywin? Fuck you. Do you hear me? Fuck. You.”

The line went dead.

For a few moments, he was shocked. He couldn’t recall hearing her ever use such a word. She was notoriously known to be polite under any circumstances. He must have upset her more than he thought possible and the idea of ending their conversation in such a way was unacceptable.

Tywin pocketed his phone, scanning the crowd for Sansa’s reappearance. She was nowhere to be seen. She was probably leaving and he wouldn’t be surprised if she was on the verge of tears. Sansa Stark cried when she was furious. It had always amused him – when she hadn’t been angry at him, obviously.

With deceptive calmness, he turned on his heel, descended the stairs and headed off toward the main entrance and coatroom.

He was correct; Sansa was there getting ready to leave. She was angrily wiping off her tears while trying to put on her coat at the same time. He could hear her muttering something under her breath but didn’t catch the words. He could hardly allow her to leave in such a state.

“Let me help you, Ms. Stark.” Tywin stepped closer and tried to take her coat from her, ignoring several onlookers who lurked at the sidelines of the room. This evening was an utter disaster, it couldn’t get worse. Let them stare.

“Don’t touch me!”

The shriek echoed in the vestibule rather loudly. His hands stilled and he glowered at her. It could get worse, as it seemed. More people appeared from somewhere, looking both terrified and curious about what was just happening. He already saw tomorrow’s headlines in his mind. Growling match, perhaps?

“Do try to act your age, please.”

“That’s rich, coming from you, you emotionally stunted bastard!”

“Sansa!” he hissed and leaned closer, towering over her. He had been right – her perfume smelled like regret. All kinds of it were twisting suddenly in his heart. “We’re not here alone. Control yourself.”

“If you don’t want to be involved in the spectacle I’m making of myself, then leave me alone. No one asked you to follow me. I don’t want to see you, don’t want to talk to you, don’t want to listen to you.”

He had been trying not to draw any attention to them, to their affair, and here she was, throwing it all right through the window. World was more lenient to an older man taking a young lover but Sansa? They would not forgive her so easily.

“I’ll help you, my dear.” He yanked the coat from her hands and cursed himself from that slip of the tongue. You never knew you listened. “Then I’ll accompany you to your car. Our conversation is not finished but I refuse to have it in from of all these people.”

Sansa stared at him. New tears of frustration were pooling at the corners of her reddened eyes but her jaw was firmly set. If she had the ability to kill with a look, he would be dead already. He returned her glare expressionlessly and held up the coat for her.

She knew he wouldn’t be the one to budge, so she slipped it on and marched through the door before he could open it for her. Tywin didn’t bother to glance over his shoulder to know that they left behind a small crowd of gawking people. Even though they had been sleeping together for months, this horrible display was their first public interaction as far as he could recall. Wonderful. Hopefully, none of them had taken any pictures. That would be the icing on the cake.

There was a moment of silence between them as they waited for Sansa’s driver to bring the car around. For all his efforts to get her alone so they could talk, Tywin was at a loss for words now. He wasn’t certain how to address any of the issues he needed to. Had he been presumptuous? Yes. Had he insulted her? Hurt her? Yes and yes. Was he willing to apologize for any of it? No. But he was sorry – for more than the disaster of their evening.

What possessed him to seek her out in person? He had been unwilling to face the temptation of Sansa’s closeness before. Was he truly this weak?

“Well, for a former bed companion, you are rather intent on poking your nose into my personal life,” she said finally and glanced at him. Tywin wasn’t sure which she stressed out more. _Former_ or _bed companion?_ He had no right to be interested in her affairs, both of them knew that. Sansa was his weakness, that was becoming obvious.

“Maybe it should be me getting the restraining order,” she quipped with a quick smile.

“You seemed rather intent on getting my attention every chance you could,” he said calmly and refused to look at her lest he would do something rash – like putting his hand on the small of her back, or his arm around her waist, or tucking her close to his side. It had been weeks since he had been this close to Sansa. His body was very keen on forgetting that they were still very much in a public setting or that there was no relationship between them. Never had been, really.

“I did _not_!”

“I used the word _seem_, didn’t I? I was mistaken.”

This time, the huff Sansa let out sounded more amused than annoyed. “That’s the closest to an apology I can get out of you, isn’t it?”

“Hmm.” She wasn’t wrong. The Lannister patriarch was not one for apologies.

“I hope you know I wasn’t trying to get your attention, Tywin, that’s not what I-“ Sansa fell silent and glanced at him again. He turned to face her and caught a glimpse of something unexpected in her eyes. Uncertainty, vulnerability, softness he remembered from a very long time ago. How was it possible that he had missed it before? That emotion had been right at home in her eyes, dwelling with the lovely young woman for some time already, he dared to think.

“That’s not what you want.” He finished for her and took a step closer. He could almost convince himself that it had been his intention, not that his own legs had betrayed him. His heart, it seemed, was only too happy to join his legs and the rest of his treacherous body in the rebellion against common sense and propriety. That old foolish thing was beating almost painfully and didn’t care about the show they were putting on for everyone on the street.

Oh, his hands were following suit and one of them settled at Sansa’s hip. The other one reached her face, the tips of Tywin’s fingers brushing her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline first, then her lips.

Sansa let out a shuddering breath. “Ty…”

“I find myself-” _in love with you, utterly and completely. _He was not ready to say those words yet – perhaps not ever. Tywin cleared his throat and pulled her body closer to his, wounding his arm around her waist. “I could be persuaded to give you more than my attention, Sansa. There will be stipulations, however.”

“Oh?” Sansa’s eyes sparkled. She understood what the old lion was trying to convey but she was a romantic soul and Tywin was certain than only a full confession would cut it. She was also a sadist, he thought, for she enjoyed mutilating further his already hurt pride.

Sansa’s driver was doing his best to blend into his seat, the car’s engine running idly. Somewhere around them, hushed whispers could be heard. Tywin ignored it all, completely focused only on the woman in his arms.

“Indeed. If I were to part with something vital of mine, like a heart, for example, I would insist on having yours in return.” Gods, he could hardly believe the words that were leaving his mouth but the expression on her face was more than worth it. Sansa deserved to hear them after what he had put them both through tonight. Maybe one day, he was going to admit that the depth of his emotional investment in her had been the reason why he had broken up with her; how frightening it had been to feel so vulnerable and at the mercy of another person.

“That sounds like a mutually beneficial transaction, Mr. Lannister,” Sansa said, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she sneaked her arms around his neck loosely. Oh, how he missed that. Suddenly, facing the future without Sansa in it was a concept frightening him more than being vulnerable to hurt.

“Good.” Tywin nodded and his palm settled at the back of her neck, bringing her face closer as he leaned down the rest of the way.

“I have one more requirement, though,” Sansa murmured and tilted her head back slightly, peering at him from under her lashes. Tywin stopped and narrowed his eyes.

“Yes?” he growled.

“Let’s completely _destroy_ our reputations, shall we?” Her teeth flashed in a mischievous grin for a moment before she stood up on her tiptoes and finally pressed her lips against his.

Tywin heard frantic snaps of several cameras. He ignored that, too, and deepened the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into yet another fandom I know nothing about… *sigh* Anyway, I feel really rusty after months of writer’s block and my knowledge of the English language has been slowly bleeding out through my ears for quite some time, so my apologies. The story is obviously unbetaed and I’m not a native speaker if you were wondering. Still, I hope you had fun and feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. Oh, and I welcome flames, also, so I can laugh my head off while plotting other horrible stories. Cheers, Mad :)


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